“Admiral,” Tuvok began.
She immediately raised a hand to silence him. “I understand the delicacy required by this situation. But I’m also not going to hide from it. Neither you nor Captain Chakotay was able to convince her to return to us. I would be negligent in my duty if I didn’t at least make the attempt.”
“Request permission to accompany you to Sormana?” Tuvok asked.
“Request denied,” Janeway replied. “We will reconvene when I return from Sormana.”
VOYAGER
“You asked to see me, Doctor Sharak?” Lieutenant Conlon asked, after tapping on the doorframe of his office in sickbay.
Sharak rose immediately, his face uncharacteristically stern. “I asked to see you three days ago, Lieutenant.”
“We’ve had our hands full in engineering, Doctor. I’m sorry for the delay,” Colon replied.
Sharak nodded and gestured for her to precede him into the main sickbay and to take a seat on one of the biobeds. “Our last round of tests suggested some ongoing irregularities with your immune system. I have taken it upon myself to conduct a complete analysis of all of your medical records to search for any cause beyond your experience with Xolani. I am pleased to report that no prior exposure to alien contagions appears to be related. I need to conduct a new round of scans and blood work in order to determine your current levels and to see if your immune system is returning to normal on its own.”
“I feel fine,” Conlon said.
“No unusual weariness?”
“No.”
“Headaches?”
“No.”
“How are you sleeping?”
“Well enough, when I can.”
“That’s a good sign,” Sharak noted as he continued to run his medical tricorder over her. “I’m going to take some blood now, and then I’d like to do a complete genetic scan.”
“Why?” Conlon asked, tensing.
“It’s possible that you have been exposed to something we’ve never found, something that could have remained dormant that was activated as a result of your immune system’s attempts to rid you of Xolani’s essence. If there is genetic damage present, we need to know about it and begin taking steps to correct it.”
“What kind of genetic damage?” Conlon asked.
“There are a handful of genetic abnormalities that affect DNA’s ability to replicate properly. These damage repair syndromes are degenerative and usually lead to death through secondary causes before they prove fatal on their own. Most are evident at birth. Starfleet has encountered a few alien contagions that act on human DNA in a similar fashion. The treatment protocols are unique to each infectious agent. There are some odd hormone levels that have been present since Xolani’s attack that might suggest exposure to such an agent, but I cannot confirm that without further tests.”
“Engineering to Lieutenant Conlon,” Lieutenant Neol’s voice sounded over the comm system.
Tapping her combadge quickly, Conlon replied, “Go ahead, Neol.”
“We’ve just received the specs on the new temporal shielding the admiral ordered installed. We need you down here right away.”
“Understood,” Conlon said, pushing off the biobed. “I’ll be right there.”
“No, you won’t,” Sharak said as soon as she had closed the channel.
“Doctor, I appreciate your concerns, but I’m needed in engineering right now. I’ll come back as soon as I can for you to complete your tests. I really do feel fine. I want you to finish your work, especially if my levels are still off. But this is a direct order from the fleet commander. I can’t tell her we don’t have the new shield system integrated because I was prioritizing your medical curiosity over my duty to this ship.”
Sharak was clearly frustrated. “You will return to sickbay at the end of your current duty shift, or I will speak to Commander Torres about your negligence in tending to your medical issues.”
“It won’t come to that, Doctor Sharak. I promise,” Conlon assured him.
DEMETER
Although it felt like a lifetime ago—a thrilling and complicated lifetime—Ensign Icheb had not forgotten his failure with Commander O’Donnell during the weeks that had passed since their last conversation. His work with Lieutenant Bryce had gone a long way toward repairing his flagging self-esteem. Phinn respected his experience and never seemed to care that he was allowing a green ensign to take the lead in the fleet’s search for the message buoy or in developing the temporal shields they now required. It might have been that despite the difference in their ranks, Bryce was only a few years older than Icheb. Their rapport was instantaneous and effortless. It had been a long time since Icheb had met anyone who he honestly felt might one day become as close to him as Voyager’s original crew.
Commander Torres had ordered him to drop the matter, but this only made it worse. He had failed her and failed Commander O’Donnell. He had to know why.
As soon as the specs for the new shields had been completed and disseminated throughout the fleet, Icheb had again turned his attention to Demeter’s evaluation and after careful consideration, eliminated all but three critical system deficiencies he wished to bring to the attention of Commander Elkins. He felt this effort went beyond personal compromise. Had this been a test at the Academy, he would have expected to fail in presenting such a woefully incomplete analysis. But Commander O’Donnell was now the immovable object that stood between Icheb and his peace of mind. If O’Donnell could see Icheb’s genuine desire to be of use rather than taking an adversarial position, perhaps they could both move past this and Icheb could return his attention to more interesting and exciting duties.
Commander O’Donnell didn’t look up when Icheb entered his private lab. Icheb stood just inside the door for a full five minutes before O’Donnell even seemed to take notice of him.
“Ensign?” O’Donnell asked in surprise.
“Good afternoon, Commander,” Icheb said. “Pursuant to our last conversation, I have again revised my evaluation of Lieutenant Elkins and with your permission, would like to present this report to him.”
Silently O’Donnell extended a hand to accept the padd Icheb held. He had barely glanced at it when he passed it back to the ensign.
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
“Nope.”
“Commander, I don’t understand,” Icheb said, flabbergasted at this outright rejection of the olive branch he had so generously offered.
“I know,” O’Donnell agreed.
“I . . . but . . .”
“Don’t come back until you do,” O’Donnell said, dismissing him.
Icheb did not allow the deep sigh of disappointment to escape his lips until he had left O’Donnell’s presence and was on his way back to Demeter’s transporter room. He only hoped that word of this latest failure would not reach Commander Torres’s ears.
SORMANA
When the enhanced transporter released Admiral Janeway from its confinement beam, she wondered at the efficiency of this extraordinary technology. It used a series of subspace pattern enhancers to relay officers from ships that would normally be outside transporter range to Sormana’s surface. It might have a few bugs in it. The admiral expected to arrive in the Center’s transporter room, just as Chakotay and Tuvok had. Instead, she found herself surveying a wasteland.
That this had once been a magnificent city was obvious. Where tall buildings had once stood, twisted metal beams rose from the rubble like sickly, misshapen trees. The surface had been cleansed by years of erosion. Nothing grew here.
Visible in the distance were smaller buildings, all that remained of ancient homes. People had lived here. Families had lived here. How long ago, the admiral could not say. Their ghosts surrounded her and seemed to press close to her as she made her way toward a pile of large stone fragments in a relatively clear area where the lone figure of Denzit Janeway awaited her arrival.
The sky was filled with low-hanging clouds, casting a gray pallor ove
r the devastation. The air was slightly chilled even without the tension rolling off of the admiral in waves.
The denzit stood beside the rubble. On one of the larger stone fragments rested a tall thermos and two metal cups. She seemed more relaxed than the admiral, or perhaps simply resigned. Janeway struggled to match her demeanor to that of the woman whose face she shared but whose life she could barely imagine.
“Welcome to Sormana,” the denzit greeted her when only a few meters separated them.
“What was this place?” Janeway asked without preamble. She understood that the denzit had chosen this location intentionally. She was setting a stage, attempting to provoke an emotional response from the admiral. Janeway couldn’t allow that—not with so much at stake—but she knew a stacked deck when she saw one.
“Batibeh,” the denzit replied. “This was once the most ancient Rilnar settlement on the planet. Like its Zahl counterpart, Hillresh, it was designated as a sanctuary thousands of years ago. The war might rage elsewhere, but here Rilnar were free to learn about their past and build the kind of city that would endure in a better future. For over five thousand years, the Zahl refrained from attacking this small, completely defenseless city just as the Rilnar left Hillresh in peace.
“Eventually, an armed perimeter was established as much to keep the Rilnar in as any new settlers out. But its historical significance was respected until two hundred years ago when, apparently, the Zahl changed their minds. Almost a hundred thousand men, women, and children perished in a sustained bombardment that lasted eight days. Despite this atrocity, Hillresh still stands.”
“The Zahl are the problem here?” Janeway asked. “Is that the point of this exercise?”
“The Zahl are monsters, Admiral,” the denzit said simply. Civilian casualties have always been an unfortunate reality on Sormana. But without civilians willing to continue to occupy the planet, Sormana’s ultimate loss would be inevitable. Essential pieces of Rilnar history would be lost forever. The Rilnar wouldn’t still be here were it not for the Zahl’s utter barbarity.”
“A characteristic with which I understand you are well acquainted,” the admiral said.
The denzit smiled bitterly. “This isn’t about me,” she said. “What the Zahl did to me when I was captured was no more than we were trained to expect from the Cardassians. It was degrading, merciless, and unbelievably painful. But I had already learned how to defend myself, how to keep enough of myself separate from what they were doing to my body to survive. They made me wish for death, but they never made me forget the extraordinary beauty life can hold.”
“What’s in the thermos?” Janeway asked.
This time the denzit’s smile was briefly genuine. She poured a steaming liquid black as pitch into both cups and offered one to Janeway as she sipped from hers. The admiral accepted it and drank. The burn going down had nothing to do with the liquid’s temperature and Janeway had to admit it was invigorating. What it was missing were the mellow tones of really great coffee, the smooth finish that followed the bite. Instead, she felt instantly enervated, not entirely unpleasant, but just this side of uncontrolled.
“What do you think?” the denzit asked.
“I think this stuff could probably fuel a warp core. And I think it’s time you told me exactly what you’re doing here.”
The denzit seemed disappointed, but not surprised. “I’m ending a war, Admiral.”
“You could have fooled me,” Janeway said.
“Do you really think I am any less nauseated by the state of affairs here than you are? This conflict has taken lives and treasure well beyond what anyone would consider rational. It has become a way of life for the Rilnar and the Zahl and in the process significantly limited their potential.”
“So end it. There are dozens of habitable worlds, many of them not that far from here that could easily absorb the population of Sormana. Lay down your arms. Agree to declare this planet neutral territory, accessible by any who wish to study it, but uninhabitable for a set period of years until both parties can figure out how to share it in peace.”
“Did you really come down here to give me a refresher course in basic diplomacy?”
“I wasn’t sure you remembered.”
“The Rilnar leadership will never agree to those terms.”
“Why not?”
“Because the Zahl would never honor them, even if they accepted them in principle.”
“If I were speaking to the Zahl right now, would they say the same thing about the Rilnar?”
“Probably.”
“Then this is pointless. It seems to me that both parties have amply demonstrated that they are incapable of having nice things. I could bring my fleet through that minefield into Sormana’s orbit and fry every millimeter of this planet. I could render it uninhabitable for centuries. Everyone here now is going to die sooner rather than later. Why not cut to the chase, put you all out of your misery, and remove the source of the conflict?”
The denzit considered Janeway evenly. Finally she said, “I wouldn’t put it past you. Starfleet Command would strip you of your rank but you might consider it worth the sacrifice to make your point.”
Had the denzit thrust a dagger into Janeway’s heart, the injury done by those words could not have been more severe. I would never. The admiral was simply testing the limits to which the denzit might be willing to go. That she could believe this of Janeway suggested that the denzit had already given in to the darkest impulses nurtured by sustained conflict.
Without warning, the sound of her own voice recounting a Krenim attack that had rendered all but six decks of Voyager uninhabitable during a war neither of them remembered echoed in Janeway’s mind. What chilled the admiral was the determination in that voice to make the Krenim pay for what they had done, with no thought to the choices she had made that had prolonged the conflict or led to those losses.
Perspective was everything in life, and one of the easiest things to lose, particularly in this region of the Delta Quadrant it seemed.
“You’re wrong,” Janeway finally said. “That would not only be an illegal and immoral act, it would also solve nothing. Until the people on this planet recognize the futility of the present struggle and the benefits of peace, this is merely a question of geography. But I’m not sure how you think you’re going to end this war by doing anything less than annihilating the Zahl. You’ve already dehumanized them. Isn’t genocide the next obvious step?”
“Not from where I’m sitting,” the denzit replied. “It’s taken me a few years, but in that time I’ve shored up every aspect of Rilnar defensive capabilities. The Zahl are reaching the end of their resources. The public outcry from both the Rilnar and Zahl colonies to end this conflict grows louder each day. All that remains is to discover the last of the Zahl supply lines and sever them. It’s somewhere on this planet and when I find it and eliminate it—game over.”
“This isn’t a game.”
The denzit’s face hardened.
“For one man?” Janeway asked.
The stone face cracked as the denzit’s cheeks flushed.
“You know about Dayne?”
“Of course I do.”
“What happened to Mark?”
Janeway sighed and looked briefly away. She was in no hurry to add to the list of the denzit’s valid grievances, but she deserved the truth.
“When Voyager was officially declared lost, he moved on with his life. He married a lovely woman named Carla. They have a child. Disappointing as it was, I don’t blame him.” Finally meeting the denzit’s eyes again, she added, “And he’s so happy now.”
“I’m glad to hear that. He deserves it.”
“He does.”
“Have you allowed yourself to love anyone since then?”
Janeway inhaled and released the breath slowly. “I have.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Yes.”
“Chakotay?”
“Yes.”
“Tha
t must be nice for you, commanding the fleet that includes his ship.”
“It has its moments.”
The denzit reached inside her uniform jacket, removed a tattered, worn image of a Rilnar man, and handed it to the Admiral. His skin was fair, and his face held fewer traces of the characteristic epidermal pitting common to the species. A mop of sandy blond hair sat over piercing hazel eyes. It was a kind face, and the eyes seemed to be those of an old soul.
“No one was more surprised than I was when I realized what Dayne had given me. When I learned that I could feel that again. It was . . .”
“I know,” the admiral said, handing the picture back to her.
“He wouldn’t want me to continue this fight just for him.”
“Good.”
“But he wouldn’t want me to abandon it either, not when I’m so close to winning it.”
“Are you aware of the illness plaguing the Zahl deserters right now?”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
“Do you understand its source?”
“No. I’ve lost six teams trying to infiltrate local medical facilities. They are more heavily guarded than the Zahl armories.”
“Then you don’t even know what you’re looking for.”
“Do you?”
Janeway said nothing.
“You do,” the denzit said, struck by the realization.
Janeway struggled to keep her face neutral. “Come with us. You don’t belong here. You’ll do more good from outside this conflict than leading a doomed charge. Help us discover the truth, to learn what’s really at stake here and then you can use the trust you have gained from the Rilnar to bring their leaders to the negotiation table.”
“You’ll never get the Zahl to join us there.”
Janeway couldn’t help the disparaging glance that flew unbidden from her eyes.
“Look, I understand that challenges like this get us out of bed in the morning, but I’m telling you, the Zahl are a special case. They may look civilized to the outside observer, but their obstinacy and tactics are more reminiscent of the Borg.”
“Don’t waste our time on meaningless hyperbole. The Borg is the only species that was anything like the Borg. And even they met their match.”
Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies Page 21
